


Remembering

by RelicIron



Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Andrew POV, Andrew is very bitter, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dissociation, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Memory Loss, Non-Graphic Violence, Prosthesis, Scars, Zach gets hurt AGAIN, Zach's also pretty self-destructive, Zachariah bottles his emotions up like a champ
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25705552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RelicIron/pseuds/RelicIron
Summary: Some missing or altered scenes from Andrew's point of view.
Relationships: Andrew Mancer | Lucky/Zachariah Mancer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just gonna post these. I'm not sure if I'll end up writing more, but it's better than these rotting in my documents folder.

When he hears the lock begin to disengage, he starts. There’s no way to tell time in their little prison, but it feels too early for the Vory to be back yet.

For giving them a meal, OR giving them a beating.

The oddity makes him nervous, and he exchanges worried glances with Fiorello, before climbing to his feet.

He’d rather be punched in the face, then risk being kicked in the ribs if he was still on the ground.

But when the door finally opens, the man that walks through is not a gangster, but a ghost.

At first he only notices the general things: light brown skin, salt and pepper hair, and a distinct lack of the Vory’s signature jacket.

That’s where his gaze snags as it registers just what kind of clothes the man is wearing.

It’s been over ten years but he’d never forget the armor of a technomancer.

And that’s when Andrew takes another look at him as he makes his way into the room.

He’s young, maybe around Andrew’s own age, and there’s a flash of electric blue when he turns his head a bit, scanning Andrew and giving him a polite nod as he passes by to speak with Fiorello.

It takes a moment to mentally reconcile the man before him with the teen from his memories, before Andrew remembers that the man’s hair used to be black and the severe look locked on his face used to be much softer.

Zachariah.

The realization nearly steals the breath from his lungs, and it takes everything in him to stay calm.

Zachariah was alive?! He’d thought…

Memories he never let himself dwell on rush to the surface and supply the foggy image of the hand-full of initiates and masters that were in the room that day, and Zach’s piercing blue eyes were one of the only clear things he still remembered. As the surge overtook Andrew, Zachariah was one of the few who ran _towards_ him instead of away, and it was the last thing he’d seen before the building energy stole everything from him.

He’d been so close, Andrew had always assumed he’d killed him. It was the death that had hit him the hardest, once he’d had time to understand the gravity of what he’d done.

Zachariah is speaking to Fiorello, apparently he’s their knight in shining armor, here to free them from the Vory and gather some information once they’re safely out.

Andrew just stares at him for a minute, cataloging the differences ten years had brought, before his brain catches up to him.

He hadn’t recognized him.

He’d seen him, those disturbing eyes had caught on Andrew and they were just as piercing as they used to be, but there’d been no recognition in them. Zachariah’s gaze had flicked over him, assessing, as if deciding if he was a threat, before returning to his eyes, politely acknowledging him, and moving on.

Did he… not remember him?

It wasn’t like they were close after all, but really? Nothing?

He feels the easy smile he’s long since tattooed across his face drop a little.

Was Andrew so insignificant to him that he wasn’t even worth remembering?

His chest feels tight, and its like the masters’ rejection all over again.

He’d spent years suffering under the knowledge that he’d killed Zachariah, only to learn that he was not only alive, but didn’t give enough of a damn to even recognize him.

It made his blood boil, and when Zach turns away from Fiorello to leave, he’s got a decade’s worth of anger on the tip of his tongue.

Until he sees the damage.

Deep, ragged scars that claw their way over the right side of his face, disappearing into his hair and under his collar. The shell of his ear is lopsided, like it had been stitched back together, and his right eye is milky and unseeing.

It cuts through his rage like a knife, and any vicious remarks die behind his teeth.

There was no question as to _how_ he’d gotten those injuries, and it made Andrew’s stomach turn to realize that just because he hadn’t killed him, didn’t mean that Zach hadn’t suffered.

Maybe he didn’t _want_ to remember.

He swallowed hard, throat clicking as Zachariah stepped through the door and was gone. Just like that. As if he hadn’t just turned Andrew’s world upside down.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he grabs for his mace that isn’t there before forcing himself to calm down. It’s just Fiorello.

“Alright, Lucky? You seem as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

He barks a laugh, and even to his own ears it sounds a little shrill.

“Yeah… I think I did.”


	2. Chapter 2

Seeing him again in the Exchange isn’t any easier.

Zachariah’s gaze lingers longer, but with his shuttered expression, there was no way of knowing why.

But he still doesn’t recognize him.

So Andrew watches quietly as Fiorello sends him on errands. He has no idea why a full fledged technomancer is wasting his time on regular merchants when he should probably be with the army. Although from the look of the two men at his side, it looks like he IS on duty. He just apparently thinks its worth it to squeeze in more favors for Fiorello around whatever his current mission actually is.

It does give Andrew a bit of a thought though.

Without his abilities, he couldn’t enter the chapel. If he couldn’t enter the chapel, he couldn’t get a-hold of Master Connor, who he’d painstakingly traced here, just so he could make the man face what he’d done to him. It was the only reason he’d volunteered to come here, and his mission had stalled the minute he saw the heavy steel doors.

But if Zachariah was willing to do work for Fiorello… he may be able to convince him to bring Master Connor here.

It was worth a shot at least.

So when Zach returned yet again, he waved him over and asks.

He listens quietly and stone faced, just as he does for everyone. When Andrew asks him to bring the master here, he does notice a faint pinch between his brows, but in a heartbeat it’s gone and Zachariah nods his agreement, if a bit warily.

When he walks away, Andrew exhales harshly. He had to admit, some part of him was expecting Zach to realize his identity when he started talking. He’s still angry that he’d been forgotten, but with how much his surge had clearly cost Zachariah, it may be best that he doesn’t remember him after all.

It still hurt like hell, though.

It’s not even an hour later when he sees a very confused Master Connor looking around the market with Zach calmly following at his heel.

He leans off the wall and is on Connor in a split-second, grabbing his arm and dragging him away from the crowds and behind the relative shelter of a closed merchant stall. The eyes of his old teacher go wide in shock.

“An...Andrew?”

Electricity crackles through the air and he sees Zach round the stall, his stoicism cracked into a harsh glare as sparks crawl down his staff.

“Wait, Zachariah! It’s alright,” Master Connor holds out a placating hand, “please, I must speak to this man.”

He pauses for a moment before adding, “You should see to your duties, I promise we can speak later.”

For a minute Zach looks like he’s going to argue, before a muscle twitches in his jaw and he slowly backs off, sending one last scowl of warning Andrew’s way before leaving entirely.

Their conversation doesn’t go the way Andrew wanted, though in fairness he’s not sure what he expected. While he was regretful, Master Connor didn’t actually apologize, sticking by his decision to get Andrew out of the cloister to protect those remaining. As if Andrew didn’t need protecting too.

In the end, he quickly had enough of Connor’s excuses, turning with a snarl and starting to walk away, but something occurred to him and he turned back for a moment.

“Zach didn’t recognize me. Why?”

Master Connor blinks in surprise, “I’m… not sure. Zachariah has always been so focused on his training, it seems to push everything else out. He tends to have trouble with remembering people, please don’t take it personally.”

Andrew grumbles as he finally leaves. The Zachariah he knew had a mind like a steel trap. This was just another technomancer excuse that they expected him to swallow. Like they thought Andrew’s IQ dropped 10 points the minute he lost his power.

Stupid. Coming here was a waste of time.

He stalked back to Fiorello’s stand and made himself comfortable against the wall.

The _minute_ there was a sandsail available to take him back to Noctis, he was leaving and never looking back.


	3. Chapter 3

Andrew is helping one of the mechanics, Arani, replace a tire on a sandsail, when another one races up and skids to a halt, covering both of them in a shower of dirt. He coughs and Arani gets up to yell at the careless driver, only to grunt as the man shoves passed him and bolts towards the caravanserai.

Andrew can’t grab him in time to stop him from giving chase, so that’s how they all end up on the balcony in Dandolo’s palace. Or rather, the driver is on the balcony, and Andrew had managed to catch Arani and drag him back into the shadows of the stairway, convincing him to listen instead of raging further.

“My friend, what can I do for y-”

“Victor has finally made a move, my Prince,” the driver pants.

Dandolo’s open expression immediately sharpens.

“And?”

“He has declared a young technomancer to be a traitor, the one who helped Fiorello. Said he was working for Aurora.”

Dandolo snorts, “I’m sure he did.”

Andrew’s breath catches and he’s stumbling forward before he can stop himself.

“Zachariah, was that his name?”

Both men look at him, startled, before Dandolo’s gaze turns wary.

“And if it is, what do you know of it, Lucky?”

He swallows, “I… used to know him, and I saw him working with Fiorello. He saved us from the Vory, and I can promise you that he wouldn’t be working with Aurora.”

Dandolo relaxes a bit and chuckles, “Oh I’m well aware that the charges are entirely false, but-” he turns back to the driver, “what became of it? Was he taken in?”

“No, my Prince, Niesha and some Seeker grabbed him before they could spring the trap. Last I heard they were trying to get to the Abundance rover.”

Dandolo hums thoughtfully, before his eyes flick back to Andrew, “You say you know him, and you know Abundance, do you have any faith in his ability to escape?”

Amelia Reacher was well known for her fiery personality and her attachment to the machine, but the Zach he knew was NOT a people person and definitely couldn’t drive the damn thing if he tried to take it by force.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him fight, but there’s a good chance that he’ll be able to reach it, I’m just not sure if he’ll be able to convince Ameila to help. That rover won’t be going anywhere without her.”

“Then let us hope that Neisha can persuade the young lady,” Dandolo sighs.

He quickly turns to the driver and thanks him for the information, before ushering both of them out. Arani must have given up on his revenge and gone back to work, because the stairwell was empty, and Andrew was left to his thoughts.

\----

It was only two or three hours later when he heard the shouts at the main gate and immediately made for the catwalk above.

By the time he reached the ramp, the dirt vestibule in front of the gate was covered in blood and mole corpses and he could only catch a glimpse of four people disappearing through the side door, Neisha’s voice clearly audible among them.

He hurried and took the long way around to bring him back up to the elevator dock, and when he finally saw tan skin and grey hair he felt his knees go a little weak in relief.

An angry Amelia Reacher and a bewildered Scott Seeker trailed behind Neisha as she seemed to be bringing Zachariah up to speed about Noctis.

All four of them looked like hell, but Zachariah looked especially unsteady. He was clearly trying to pay attention to Neisha, but his hand is busy kneading at his arm like he’d pulled something, and there’s drying blood sprayed across his face. His eyes keep flitting around, taking in his surrounding s quickly to assess escape routes and possible danger, before moving back to Neisha to show that he’s still paying attention.

As they draw level with Andrew, he himself gets caught up in one of these visual sweeps and those starling eyes catch and hold on him for a long moment, before moving on.

Does he remember now?

Andrew snorts.

He probably only recognizes him as ‘Lucky’ ‘that guy who had an issue with Master Connor’, and not for who he really his.

It doesn’t matter, really. It’s stupid he even cares what happens to Zach, given that he apparently means to little to him. But years of quiet admiration, and then grief have etched him permanently into Andrew’s psyche, and a couple weeks of anger isn’t nearly enough to erase that.

So he watches them turn the corner to enter Dandolo’s palace, and he waits.

He’d see soon enough what Zachariah did or did not remember.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Sorry, the other technomancers aren't supposed to be there yet, fixed it.

“Your name’s Andrew, isn’t it?”

He yelps as he bangs his head on the boom of his sandsail. Forgoing the bag he’d been reaching for to rub at his smarting scalp. He turned around and there he was, Zachariah Mancer, watching him with the laser focus of a rifle scope.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I was wondering when you’d recognize me.”

Brows pulling together, his already rigid posture stiffened even further at the insinuation.

“Master Connor filled me in after your talk.”

Andrew barked a laugh that was positively _dripping_ with bitterness.

“You couldn’t even recognize me on your own, wow, you sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

Oh, now he was starting to look angry.

 _Good_ , Andrew thought, _maybe he’ll stop being a plank of wood and show his true colors_.

“What is it with you ‘Mancers? The minute someone isn’t part of your little clique anymore, they don’t matter?”

There’s a muscle in his jaw that’s starting to tick, but his voice remains flat, “Of course not, Andrew, I only-”

“Well clearly that must be the case if you can’t even be bothered to remember someone _you grew up with!_ ”

It’s like a switch flips.

“I DON’T REMEMBER ANYTHING!!” he roars. Loud enough that Andrew can see Phobos startling out of the corner of his eye.

“Growing up, every person I’ve ever met, my time in the cloister, ALMOST EVERYTHING IS GONE! All I’ve got are a handful of flashes and my training!! I didn’t even know there’d been an explosion until Master Connor TOLD me when I asked after your talk!!!” he snarled, backing Andrew against the hull of his sandsail.

“You think think the scars are the end of it?! The rubble CRACKED MY SKULL, my brain BLED until they could drag me out!! And once I healed nobody gave two shits about whether or not there was any permanent damage so long as I could still figh-”

A sharp cry tore from his throat as electricity arced over his shoulder and rippled down his arm.

Shit!

Andrew’s moving before he even realizes it, reaching through the storm of sparks to grip his arm and gritting his teeth as the charge flowed into him. He uses his momentum to shove Zachariah back until they fall against the rock wall under the palace, the only surface able to ground the electricity burning through them.

He holds him there, pressing his weight into Zach as he shudders through the surge and hisses curses into Andrew’s grease stained shirt.

It was only over when the muscles beneath him finally went slack and he carefully helped him slide down onto the metal grate of the platform. When he pulls back enough to see, Zachariah is pale and shaky with beads of sweat rolling down his temples, making his gray hair stick to the skin.

He fucked up.

Majorly.

“I’m sorry, Andrew, I shouldn’t have… thank you, for helping me, I shouldn’t have gotten upset.”

Andrew scoffs passed the lump in his throat, “It sounds like you have every reason to be upset, I just… I shouldn’t have assumed that you forgot about me because you didn’t care.”

His throat closes up and it takes a minute to speak again.

“I’m… I’m _so sorry_ , Zachariah. I can’t even… I lost _everything_ that day, but in a way it sounds like you did too and it was because of me. And here I come to yell at you about it after you’ve lost everything _again_.”

He looks exhausted but he’s clearly trying to piece his mask back together.

“It’s fine-”

“It really isn’t,” he says, holding Zachariah’s gaze.

Those glacial eyes stare back for a moment before sliding away again.

“I can’t… _deal_ with this right now, I need to-.”

He tries to get up, but he looks like he’s about 5 seconds from passing out, so Andrew immediately grabs him and pulls him back down, only to flinch when Zachariah yelps and wrenches his arm away to cradle at his chest.

What the-

Ignoring the weak attempts to shove him away, Andrew snatches his left wrist and pulls open the sleeve zipper along his forearm.

“Fuck.”

The skin he can see is crisscrossed in thin lines of burnt flesh, some so severe they’ve cracked open and are seeping sluggishly, and the hollows of his wrist and inner elbow are almost entirely purple, with dark, swollen veins spidering back out into the ravaged limb.

This wasn’t just from the surge.

Hell, through the mess of fresh burns, he can even see a few scarred ones, so this was clearly an ongoing thing.

How the fuck could he even _move_ like this?!

Andrew didn’t even want to _know_ what his hand looked like.

Zachariah hasn’t said a word, isn’t even looking at him, just frowning off to the side like Andrew’s sandsail said something mildly offensive.

At his continued shocked silence, he finally mumbles a half-hearted, “It’s not as bad as it looks”, and Andrew chokes.

“Not as bad as- No, uh uh, you’re going to Scott NOW,” he grabs hold of Zach’s _other_ arm and hefts him to his feet.

“I don’t have time for this-”

“Either you’re walking over there and showing him, or I’m dragging you, which is it?”

For a minute it seems like Zachariah’s going to fight him, before he almost visibly sags and nods tiredly, “I’ll walk.”

“Good.”

He follows him over, and stays until he’s sure Scott has seen the injuries. Andrew only leaves once he sees the Seeker pull out several med packs and draw a dirty curtain around his make-shift medical station for privacy.

Just what the hell has Zachariah been _doing_ to himself?!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon worldbuilding here:  
> Offload: If technomancers don't use their powers enough they need to offload the built up charge. There are specially designed stations in the cities, where they can release the electricity and it is assimilated into the power grid. If they're not in a city, they sink a metal rod into the dirt away from anything conductive and release it into the ground. Normally technomancers need to offload every couple days. Zach needs to offload daily. No idea how Andrew does it without his powers.  
> Neural lines: carry the fluid and the charge from the brain to the extremities.

As it turns out, Zach had overdone it. And to such a shocking extent that he’d nearly cooked his own stupid arm.

Even Scott was upset with him, in his own rambling way. Andrew could hear him lecturing Zachariah about muscle integrity and skin lesions before he even pulled back the curtain. Zach’s blank mask was already firmly back in place, but he’d changed out of his armor and into a sleeveless wrap shirt that meant he wouldn’t have to raise his arms to put it on.

It also made Andrew’s heart lurch in his chest when he saw his arms. The left was completely bandaged from under the shirt all the way down to the tips of his fingers, and already there were a few spots beginning to soak through, but the extent of his injuries were only part of it.

His _right_ arm. Shadows, his right was a mess of scars, some puckered and jagged, others clean and narrow. He had no idea which were directly caused by the accident and which were from the countless surgeries he likely had, but every last one was entirely his fault and it made his throat go painfully tight.

He swallowed hard, and tried to put on a smile for Zach as he walked by, already going back to the caravanserai. Although he was clearly doing his best to present his usual stoicism, Zachariah looked pale and sweaty and the tension around his eyes spoke of his exhaustion. He nodded to Andrew as he passed, but offered nothing more, and Andrew couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not.

This was hardly the time to dig up the past, especially after he’d pushed Zach so far he’d had a surge. Andrew was just going to have to wait until the man had time to rest and collect himself before they could even attempt to talk about the things that had happened. And even then, he should probably let Zach be the one to bring it up. With how badly he’d screwed up their first real conversation, he needed to let Zachariah be the one to set the pace, or he’d risk driving him away for good.

Assuming he hadn’t already.

\---------

Surprisingly, their second talk wasn’t that bad. Zachariah had prodded him into talking about what had happened, both the accident and his life since. He’d admit, he was a little prickly about it, too many people had mocked Andrew for him to be anything but defensive, but Zachariah listened attentively and didn’t seem to judge.

“I’m surprised you’re not still upset about… well, about what I did to you. Unless you’re doing a _really_ good job at hiding it, of course.” He knew it was probably a bad idea to go poking the shield toad, but he needed to know where they stood.

Zachariah blinked, seemingly caught off guard a little.

“I’m not upset about it.”

“Yeah, that surge yesterday begs to differ,” he scoffed, before wincing. He probably shouldn’t have brought that up.

Zach dips his head a bit, like he’s _embarrassed_ of all things.

“That wasn’t… it wasn’t about the accident. I’ve just had too many people assume I don’t care. Whether it’s because I don’t remember or because of…,” he waves awkwardly over his face.

“Honestly, its hard to miss stuff I don’t remember, and I don’t know what it’s like to not live with the side effects. So it’s not easy, but as far as I know, it never was.”

Andrew swallows, “Side effects?”

“Other than the blindness and the memory loss? Migraines mostly, especially if I’ve pushed too hard, and I get nerve pain in my right side sometimes,” he hums, “It could be worse, and I’ve learned to live with it.”

He could get that, Andrew’s amputation was a little more obvious of an impairment, but Zach had clearly figured out ways to compensate for his injuries, just as he had.

“What about that?” he says, nodding toward Zach’s left arm.

He shifts awkwardly and tries to hide it a little.

“It took a while to heal, and once I did, I’d fallen behind. I needed… I figured out a way to make up the time.” He lifted his right hand and let a few sparks leap between his scarred fingers. “My power was kind of average so I worked on my speed and regeneration. My shocks aren’t as strong as some of the others, but I can pump out way more in a fight than anyone else I’ve seen.”

Andrew frowns, his memory is hazy but he distinctly remembers the Masters telling them NOT to do that.

“The down side is I make way more fluid that I should, so I have to offload a lot. And my neural lines don’t have time to cool down in between shocks. Overheat the lines too much, and you start burning yourself.”

“And the Masters just let you do that?” he couldn’t help his accusatory tone. If the Masters were willing to abandon Andrew, it wouldn’t surprise him at all that they’d let Zach hurt himself like this.

“They know my fluid regen is through the roof, but the burning part didn’t start being a major problem until I became an officer and started fighting multiple times a day.”

“And you didn’t think you should maybe slow down a little?”

Zach snorts like the very idea is ridiculous.

“I had a job to do.”

_Right, like that’s a reason to grill your own arm_ , he thought.

They talked for a while more before Zachariah surprised him yet again.

“I want to help you. Is there anything I can do?”

It takes a minute to swallow down the knee-jerk impulse of ‘no, I’m fine’ that he usually spits out to the rare person who asks. Unlike the others, who seemed to only do it out of pity, Zach seemed so damn earnest that he actually has to take a second to consider his response.

“I… don’t think so, not unless you can turn back time, Rogue. But… thanks… it matters that you asked.”

Its clear that Zachariah doesn’t accept it, Andrew can see the wheels already turning in his head, but he knows enough to drop it for now.

With the sun hanging low in the sky Zach says his goodbyes, and after a quick trip to Scott’s for another healing injection, he heads back around to the caravanserai.

_Who knows_ , Andrew thinks to himself as he beds down for the night in his own cramped room, _Zach’s clever, maybe he actually_ _ **will**_ _come up with a way to help_.

He usually doesn’t believe himself when he dares to hope like this, but with Zach… he’s willing to go on a little faith.


	6. Chapter 6

It took two days of morning and night injections before the bandages could come off, and even then the skin was still shiny and pink, tender to the point that Zachariah had taken to wearing an engineer’s jacket around to protect it from the slivers of sun that shone through the canvas shades.

He’d also spent a fair amount of time with Scott, bent over a large piece of dirty paper as they muttered quietly together and sketched lines across it in broad, sweeping strokes.

Andrew had been surprised to learn that Zachariah was apparently a talented and resourceful craftsman. It had almost been funny to watch the shock on Phobos’ face when Zach had taken his measurements and came back the next day with armor that FIT. He honestly couldn’t remember a time that Phobos had worn something on his upper body that wasn’t a ratty shirt, so most of the time he simply went without. Finding something his size was next to impossible, and although mutants were welcome in Noctis, that didn’t translate to the craftsmen being willing to help them.

For living his whole life in the city, Zachariah was surprisingly kind towards mutants. There were still some prejudices that Phobos was breaking him of, but not many. It certainly endeared the big guy to him fast.

So after seeing him alter armor for Phobos, and Neisha too, it wasn’t too unexpected when Zach eventually came to him with a grubby measuring tape, a pad of paper, and gruff instructions to hold still.

His touches were efficient and clinical, but… maybe Andrew had just gone too long without feeling hands brushing over his skin. Hell, through his shirt even! And having Zach that close…

It’s like he’d been thrown back in time to when he was 17 and wondering if Zachariah’s fingers felt calloused and rough after training so long with a staff.

Apparently they _did_.

He wasn’t sure what to do with that information, but it felt important to note, and the ghost of their touch stayed with him for hours afterwards.

\-------

A few days after Zach managed to have the rover retrieved, he marched down from the caravanserai looking absolutely _murderous_.

“Amelia, are the repairs done?” he’d snapped.

She didn’t jump, but it looked like a close thing.

“Yeah, why?”

“We’re going back to Abundance,” he growled.

“Woah, woah, why? Pretty sure that’s a really bad idea, Za-”

“They rounded up the Mancers,” he hissed, wheeling around to face Andrew.

“Because of _me_ , they broke in, rounded everyone up, and now they’re working their way through interrogating them!”

Sparks are crackling over his shoulders, and it takes a visible effort to force them down and haul the mask back up. It’s not solid, Andrew can still see the rage in the set of his jaw and the narrowing of his eyes, but it’s more controlled, which is probably the best he could manage at the moment.

“Ok,” he said placatingly, “Ok... so what are we going to do?”

“We’re getting them out.” Zachariah turned and made for the rover, as Amelia rushed through the pre-drive checks.

“You’re going to sneak back into Abundance, where you’re considered a _traitor_ , and break into the Exchange of all places, **right in front of the Assembly Hall** , just to save _them_?!”

He shouldn’t have said it. Just because he hated them, doesn’t mean Zach did, and from the way he’d stiffened and glared over his shoulder, Andrew knew he should have kept his mouth closed.

“Yes, Andrew, I am. If you don’t want to come, that’s **fine**. But I’m not going to let them suffer in my place.”

He marched up the ramp, grabbing the door handle in a white knuckled grip, before pausing.

“I know they did wrong by you, Andrew, they didn’t handle me perfectly either, by they’re my family,” he said quietly, not looking away from the steel side plating in front of him despite the way his voice cracked around ‘family’.

Andrew sighed.

Just how many times was he going to put his foot in his mouth when it came to Zach.

There was nothing for it except to nod.

“Ok, Zach, lets go get them.”

He still didn’t look back at Andrew, but his shoulders did relax an inch or two, so that was something.

When everyone had piled in, Zach wordlessly tossed a high power pistol into Andrew’s lap, modified heavily to reduce recoil.

The sort of modification that would make it easy to aim without needing a second hand to steady it.

Shit.

Zach was taking such pains to include him, to **care** in his own stiff way, and Andrew kept saying thoughtless things that upset him.

He needed to do better.

And he had a good long hour or so to think about it on the way to Abundance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Andrew wielding a mace one-handed in the game was a really stupid idea, so we'll be ignoring that and giving him a gun instead.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're replacing 'Great Master' with 'Grandmaster' because great master sounds so stupid it makes me cringe.  
> Don't worry, the comfort is coming for the hurt in this chapter, I promise.

The gun was a perfect weight, and just as he’d thought, the modifications made it easy to draw and fire with one hand.

Staying out of range was a necessity, and he stepped lightly to avoid being boxed in by the vermin in the Underworks.

Not that many made it through to him.

Phobos he’d seen in action, the man was a wrecking ball with a hammer that large, but Zachariah…

Shadows above…

All those years of brutal training he’d put himself through to the exclusion of just about everything else _had paid off._ A fact that only became more apparent when they moved on from animals to Abundance soldiers.

Lit up with electricity, the staff was like an extension of himself as he became a whirlwind of graceful destruction. Shocks arced through the air and the sharpened tip of his staff shredded ankles as he knocked their legs out from under them. Andrew heard bones breaking, saw blood spatter across the ground, and while Zach didn’t seem interested in killing them outright, it would be foolish to think that they would all survive their injuries.

Some of those men and women wouldn’t be getting back up ever again.

The further into Ophir they got, the more pieces of Zachariah’s mask crumbled away to expose the desperation and rage beneath. By the time they made it up to the Exchange and through the wrap around tunnel, he was openly snarling and it was hard for Andrew to keep up the illusion that any of those soldiers would survive the hour.

He and Phobos stayed quiet, sharing nervous glances as Zach tore his way through the opposition and only spoke when they had to wrestle him to a stop long enough for an injection to heal his wounds.

Zach paused briefly, when he saw the ruined door to the chapel, the concrete barricade topped with razor wire, before an absolutely feral look came over him. Like a wolf returning to his den to find an enemy had ravaged it in his absence. He hadn’t even waited for Andrew and Phobos to finish climbing over the wall before he’d thrown himself at the soldiers inside with a roar.

_Shadows_ , he thought, _if this keeps up he could overload_.

There was a moment, when they’d finished clearing the room, where Zach just stood there shaking and panting, just taking a second to breathe in the newly liberated chapel.

“Zachariah, are you… are you ok?” It’d been a stupid question, but Andrew was too unnerved to phrase it any other way.

He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t turn to him, just kept breathing hard and leaning against his fully-extended staff for support.

“I’m fine.”

He was not fine. Not by a long shot. Shadows, he wasn’t even _trying_ to hide how definitely **not fine** he was, and Andrew wasn’t sure whether the blatant lie was for him or for Zachariah himself.

Before he could try to push him for a more truthful answer, Zach seemed to shake himself out of his daze. Bracing his shoulders and setting his jaw.

“We need to find them,” was all he said before stalking off to start opening doors and searching rooms.

Andrew looked to Phobos who looked just as uneasy as he did.

“The faster we get through this, the faster we can help him,” he murmured quietly, and he was relieved when the large man nodded in understanding.

They searched through 4 rooms, only stopping once to grab a bag from a shelf, before they found a door barred from the outside. It was too heavy to lift alone, but Phobos moved it easily, and then they were through.

Inside were a collection of bruised and bloodied masters in varying states. The only one untouched, thankfully, was a female master in the corner who was heavily pregnant and flanked by the least injured of the lot, clearly ready to defend her.

Recognition dawned on their faces the moment they saw Zach and the shock was just as apparent as the relief.

“Zachariah! How did you-” Grandmaster Ian limped forward, only to stop when he got a good look at him, “Zachariah, what- are you alri-”

“We need to leave,” he interrupted, “Master Aela, are you ok to move?”

The pregnant woman nodded unsteadily, “I believe so.”

“Good, perhaps Masters Tannis and Robert can assist you, “he said. They must have been the two guarding her.

“We need to get to the cloister, Zachariah,” Grandmaster Ian said, clearly recognizing that Zachariah would not be acknowledging the question he’d cut short.

“I know, but most of you will need to keep the way open so I do not get cut off when I bring them back.”

Ian nodded solemnly, “We can certainly do that much. Master Conner, go with Zachariah to keep the acolytes and younglings safe.”

“Right away, Grandmaster,” Connor replied, striding out from the pack.

He looked like hell. One eye almost completely swollen shut and crusted with blood while dark bruising wrapped around his neck.

_Shadows, what had the ASC **done** to these people?!_

Despite the situation, Andrew couldn’t stop the glare he leveled at Master Connor, and he enjoyed the double take them man gave him as they left the room behind.

“Andrew, I-”

“Later,” he growled. If Connor wanted a round two of their argument, they could worry about it at Noctis, right now a screaming match was the last thing Zachariah needed.

They hurried down a series of winding tunnels and corridors, apparently the new cloister had been built into the chapel itself, rather than rebuild the old one.

_The one I destroyed_ , he thought with a shiver down his spine.

In all, they found three separate rooms of acolytes ranging in age from about 18 to 10 years old. All of them terrified, and bursting into tears when they saw Zachariah and Connor.

The fourth room was guarded by a pair of ASC soldiers who they swiftly overpowered and held at gunpoint away from the door.

“Eliza, Peter, Jacob, get the younglings out and follow Master Connor back towards the central chamber,” Zachariah barked, not taking his eyes off the soldiers for a second.

The three oldest acolytes rushed to obey and hurried passed them into the room.

Andrew’s stomach turned when they came back out with what looked like a 6 year old, a toddler, and an infant. All three were red faced from crying, but were dead silent as they stared around them with wide eyes.

Master Connor quickly gathered them all together and with one last worried look towards Zachariah, he shepherded them down the hall and around the corner.

The **second** , they were gone and the children couldn’t see them, Zachariah dropped his staff, stepped forward, grabbed the soldiers’ faces with his palms over their mouths, and unloaded directly into them with a cold glare.

He flinched faintly as their muffled screams rent the air, before letting them drop to the floor unconscious, though once more, Andrew wasn’t sure they would ever wake up again.

The three of them said nothing as they jogged to catch up, but when they rejoined the others the look Connor shot them said that the noise hadn’t been muffled quite well enough.

Thankfully they met no one else on their way back, but when they made it to the heavy door at the back of the central room, they heard angry shouts from the barrier.

With a group made up of injured masters, a pregnant woman, and literal _children_ , they couldn’t risk being overrun.

Grandmaster Ian and Master Connor immediately whirled around and made to head off the invaders, with Andew, Phobos, and Zachariah at their heels. They made decent progress for a time, but the battle turned when a squad arrived loaded down in odd looking, heavy armor.

“It’s shock resistant!” Zachariah shouted in warning, with the sort of familiarity that said he’d run into it before.

Ian and Connor nodded, but before they could get close enough to engage them at melee range, a bullet tore through the Grandmaster’s gut.

“IAN!!” Connor roared, ducking more incoming fire to crouch at his side. He had barely gotten the man’s arm over his shoulders before shot ripped through his leg and dumped both of them onto the ground.

“NO!!!”

Phobos barely managed to grab Zachariah in time as Andrew did his best to keep firing from behind the cover the altar provided. Incapacitated as they were, the soldiers paid the fallen technomancers little mind.

This was a losing battle, and from the grave look Connor and Ian shared, they knew it too.

“Go, Zachariah!” Ian cried, “My last act is to name you Master. The others will look to you now! You must protect them!”

Zach froze in Phobos’ arms, “Last act? Wha-”

Andrew felt the building charge prickle over his skin and his stomach dropped.

Oh no.

Oh _Shadows_.

_A technomancer’s last line of defense_ , he remembered reading years ago. And from the look of horror dawning on Zachariah’s face, he realized it too.

He renewed his struggling with an entirely different level of ferocity, scratching at Phobos’ arms as arcs of painful electricity stung at the larger man.

“Goodbye, Master Zachariah. And Andrew…,” Master Connor looked him dead in the eyes as sorrow broke across his face, “I’m so sorry.”

With a pair of technomancers, the death charge built rapidly and Andrew grabbed Phobos’ wrist and hauled him and the screaming Zach back to the heavy door the others had already escaped through.

They barely made it in time, and the minute the door swung closed and locked, and earth shattering _**BOOM**_ made it shudder on it’s hinges as a cloud of dust gushed out from around the frame.

Andrew grit his teeth against the visions of a decade ago threatening to unfold behind his eyes. He didn’t have time for this right now, Zachariah-

He looked over to see Zach had gone limp in Phobos’ arms, eyes peering out from under the low sweep of his grey bangs as tears carved their way through the grime on his cheeks.

Zachariah **needed** him.

The silence was deafening with only their ragged breathing to accompany it, but after several long moments, Zach seemed to rally.

“Put me down, please,” he whispered, as if not trusting his voice not to crack.

Phobos gingerly set him back on his feet and kept a hand on his back until he was sure Zach was steady.

He tipped his head back, swallowing hard and wiping away tears before taking a deep shuddering breath.

“Ok,” he said, and when he opened his eyes, Andrew could _see_ the wall come down over his emotions, face turning eerily impassive compared to the raw fury and pain from before.

“Lets get the others.”

Andrew reached out unthinkingly, grabbing his hand as he make to leave.

“Zachariah-”

The look he pinned Andrew with was just as blank as his face, but somewhere deep in those blue eyes something pleading flickered.

“…alright,” he sighed, “Lets get your people out, we can… talk later.”

He let go, and the three of them jogged down the wide corridor to find the group huddled by the thick technomancy door into the sub-basement.

The few masters capable of fighting were armed and ready, but relaxed when they saw Zachariah.

“When we felt the explosion we feared the worst, where is-” Master Melvin’s voice stuttered to a halt as he realized the implications of seeing only the three of them return.

“The Grandmaster… and Master Connor… they’re…?”

“Gone.”

That one word came down on the technomancers with all the weight of a warhammer, and most of the gathered masters paled.

“We need to leave,” Zachariah said robotically, before adding in a slightly softer tone, “We can grieve later.”

It seemed to be enough to snap Melvin out of it and he nodded gravely.

They moved everyone back, putting the most battle ready at the front and the most vulnerable furthest away, before activating the lock.

The gears spun smoothly as the steel door unfolded before them, and just as they’d thought, a squad of soldiers were there to greet them. But desperation was a great motivator, so despite their injuries, the masters fought just as viciously as he, Zachariah, and Phobos did.

But Zach was beginning to falter.

They’d run out of injections somewhere after entering the chapel, and if possible, Zach’s fighting was becoming even **more** reckless. Who knew how many injures he was ignoring, and as they all crowded onto the cargo elevator, Andrew caught the sickening smell of burnt flesh.

No one let down their guard until they made it to the sandsails, and even then a handful took up position at the rear to guard their back as the youngest and most injured began climbing aboard.

It took a total of 5 sandsails and the rover to evacuate everyone, but they managed, and as soon as they arrived back in Noctis safely everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Except Andrew.

Zachariah looked… bad.

He was staring off into space, unable to maintain eye contact with anyone, and giving single word replies whenever spoken to. Dandolo must’ve realized something was wrong, as he quickly took it upon himself to escort the exhausted technomancers to the caravanserai to start settling them in and getting them cleaned up.

Zachariah reflexively moved to follow, before Andrew grabbed him by the front of his jacket and started dragging him towards Scott instead.

“What-”

“No arguments, Rogue. We did it your way, the Mancers are safe, now you’re gonna let us make sure you’re ok.”

Either that blankness was making him more docile, or he was in far more pain than he was letting on, because he just calmly went along with it. Once he’d delivered Zachariah onto the cot in Scott’s makeshift clinic he turned to go, only to freeze at the hand gripping the hem of his own jacket.

Zach didn’t look like he was even all there anymore, but his fingers were clenched insistently into the fabric.

Consciously or not, he wanted Andrew to stay.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the comfort for the hurt last chapter. Andrew is going to sit on Zach until he's nicer to himself , dammit!

Scott was happy enough to let Andrew linger, if only to help strip Zach and hand him various items and instruments, and the man’s constant chatter helped distract Andrew from the growing horror as more and more damage was revealed. Andrew had seen him take hits while they were there, some of them nasty, but he hadn’t complained once and with the injections he and Phobos had nagged him into, they’d assumed he was reasonably ok.

Zachariah didn’t have any mortal wounds, but he was far from ok.

His skin was a patchwork of half healed punctures, gashes, and bullet grazes with swollen bruises ranging from bright angry red to rapidly darkening blue

And then there were the burns.

After the condition he’d been in when he first arrived in Noctis, they should have known, _Andrew should have known_ , that Zachariah would do it again.

His fingers were completely covered in blistered skin as deep, shocked white lines of weeping flesh branched their way up from wrist to shoulder with a scattering of thinner, lesser burns meandering between them. They spread like roots of a sickening tree over both arms and over his chest and ribs before crawling up his neck, disappearing just before brushing his jaw and sternum.

How.

How had he been THIS hurt while walking around, AND FIGHTING, like there was nothing wrong.

Andrew wanted to scream, wanted to grab Zach and shake him for being so reckless, so **self-destructive**.

Did he think it didn’t matter? That it was worth putting his own body through a meat grinder just so he could do his ‘duty’?

But he couldn’t ask right now, could he?

Despite being completely non-verbal by the time they’d started gingerly taking off his armor, Scott had only needed to glimpse a single hand before he immediately grabbed the sedatives and painkillers. Now Zachariah was dead to the world, and even if he wasn’t, he was in no condition to be questioned or manhandled.

Andrew grit his teeth as he dragged a wet cloth over Zach’s skin, trying to clean off the blood and sweat as delicately as he could so Scott could better treat him.

He’d just have to wait until Zach woke up and had time come back to himself.

After that, he would make Zachariah would treat himself with more care if it was the last thing he did.

\---------

It was nearly 12 hours before Zachariah woke up again.

Scott assured them (sort of), that the sedatives were only responsible for two of those hours, and that he was simply sleeping off the effects of their daring rescue.

When he DID wake up, it was clear he was in pain and it took a good three tries before he managed to sit up properly.

Scott hurried over as soon as he noticed, shoving a bottle of water into his hands along with a few more painkillers.

Andrew quickly followed to crouch by the cot so he could see Zach’s eyes where he was looking at the floor.

“Hey… you feeling a little better?”

At least he was able to make eye contact now, as his gaze flicked over to Andrew, and he swallowed hard.

“Not really,” he rasped.

“To be honest poor Zachariah likely feels quite a bit worse without the adrenaline there to numb things. Reminds me of the time I fell down the stairs into the basement… at least I think it was the basement… but anyways-”

Andrew tuned Scott out as he looked back up at Zach. Even having slept as long as he did, he looked more exhausted than when he got back, but he **was** more present, so the rest clearly did **some** good at least.

“Connor and Ian are dead.”

He tilts his head up so he can see Andrew more clearly. _Shadows, he looks so lost_.

“Yeah… yeah, they are.”

He wants to reach out, maybe squeeze Zach’s shoulder or something, but the man’s covered in bandages and he doesn’t dare touch him there for fear of hurting him further. So he carefully cups his cheek, his face being one of the only places that was mostly unharmed, and swallows hard when Zach leans into it like it’s the only thing keeping him together right now.

“I know it may not seem like it right now, but you did good. The other Mancers are safe. You got everyone else out,” he gives him a wobbly smirk, “And you gave those ASC bastards something to think about.”

Zach huffs something that might have been a laugh at any other time and closes his eyes completely.

“Zach… you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

A sigh is all he gets in return, but Andrew soldiers on.

“I’m serious, how many more times do you think you can fry your arms and get away with it? Scott told me while you were asleep that you’ve already done some permanent damage. And if you keep this up it’s only going to get worse.”

“I have a job to do-”

“Do you want to lose your powers? Cause that’s where you’re heading, and I can promise you it’s not fun,” he says firmly.

This time Zach flinches and any other time Andrew might feel bad about it, but he **needs** him to understand.

“I don’t know why you’re so dead set on destroying yourself, but it needs to stop.”

Zachariah pulls away from his hand and hangs his head, bracing his elbows on his knees with a wince and sagging into himself where he sits.

He mutters softly under his breath, and Andrew has to ask him to repeat himself.

“I said, what good am I if I can’t do my job?”

“Wha- Zachariah-!”

“If the Mancers don’t need me anymore then I’m just a Rogue again, and I can’t,” his voice cracks and he tries again, “I can’t go back to that, Andrew, _I can’t_.”

“Easy, Zach,” he says softly, “It’s gonna be ok. You’re a Master now, you saved their lives! There’s no way they would kick you out just because you need to slow down a little.”

He kneels down and twists his head until he can make sure Zach’s looking at him.

“And even if they would, you’ve still got us. You’re not in Ophir anymore. Amelia, Phobos, Neisha, Scott, me? We’re all here for you, whether you’re a Mancer or a Rogue.”

Zachariah gives him a watery smile and after a long painful moment he nods.

“Ok, alright, um,” Andrew backs off and casts his gaze around for something to say, finally settling on Scott where he’s puttering around at the chemistry station, “Uh, Scott said you probably needed more rest, so I’m sure you’d rather go lay in a real bed, instead of a shitty cot.”

He clears his throat, “I can take you, if you’re not sure you can make it alone.”

Zach shakes his head but rises on wobbly legs. Looks like teaching him to accept help will be a long, hard road.

“Alright, then I’ll just walk with you. For my own peace of mind.”

He shoots him a dirty look, but doesn’t fight, so Andrew guesses it’s progress.

“I still need to check on the other Manc-”  
“No you don’t. Dandolo found places for them all to stay and got their injuries treated. They’ve settled and are resting, you know, like you’re supposed to?”

“But-”

“No buts. They know you got pretty hurt, so they’re not expecting you for a couple days at least. So go, have a long nap, and me or Scott will come up tonight and give you your first injection.”

He gives Andrew a stubborn look.

“Don’t make me tell you to go to your room, young man,” he says, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

It earns an amused snort and a small smile make it through.

“Fine.”

“Good,” he sighs in relief.

He turns then, and picks his way gingerly into the caravanserai, walking like every step hurts him.

There are a handful of technomancers huddled together in one of the sitting areas, speaking in low voices, and they raise hands in greeting when Zach passes. He waves in return.

When they reach his room they pause.

He isn’t sure what he wants to say, so he just settles on a soft, “Sleep well, Zachariah.”

Zach looks at him for a long moment, before replying in an equally soft voice, “Thanks, Andrew, for… everything.”

“Any time,” he says and Andrew means it.

He watches Zach go in and close the door behind him, leaving Andrew behind in the atrium.

Old habits die hard, and Zachariah’s probably going to take a lot of patience to change his mind set.

But dammit if Andrew isn’t going to be there for him as long as he’ll let him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saddle up, now it's Andrew's turn to be vulnerable.

It takes longer for his arms to heal this time, and both Scott and Andrew force him to take several more days to rest afterwards. Zachariah is clearly agitated from doing ‘nothing’, but they do let him fuss over the Mancers so long as he doesn’t use his powers. It keeps him from climbing the walls, if nothing else.

The Mancers are having a hard time adjusting, but there isn’t much any of them can do about it. Most of them had been tortured in some form, whether the abuse was physical, like with the masters, or the psychological terror tactics the ASC had employed on the acolytes and younglings. They all looked haggard.

It was clear that none of them were sleeping. The children alternated between dead eye’d silence and ugly hiccuping sobs as they fought to understand what had happened, and the adults were struggling to balance comforting them and dealing with their own painful experiences.

Thankfully Melvin was capable enough to share the burden that had somehow fallen on Zachariah, otherwise the bastard would have tried to do everything himself. Andrew STILL wasn’t sure why Zach was the one to deal with this. He was the youngest officer there, and while they’d accepted his word that Grandmaster Ian had made him a master, that didn’t explain why they were so willing to let such a junior member take the helm.

It frustrated Andrew to watch.

They were all in shock, he understood that, but it wasn’t like Zach wasn’t too. Even Andrew had been guilty of forgetting that. But watching them all try to come to terms with being violently exiled from Ophir just highlighted how much pain Zach must have gone through when he’d fled to Noctis, all without showing any of it. Everyone handled grief in different ways, sure, but if Zach had managed to keep his shit together with the weight of the world on his shoulders, then surely a few of the masters could too.

Andrew wanted to argue with them, but as much as it rankled, having the extra (nonviolent) work to do was actually good for Zach right now. It gave him something to focus on, to feel useful, without hurting himself further.

For now, at least.

The minute they started asking Zach to do the impossible, to sacrifice his well being for them again, Andrew would feed them their own stupid armor.

–

Zach comes down from the caravanserai after a few days, still wearing bandages over his arms. Scott had said that his wounds had mostly healed, but they’d been keeping them wrapped up so the pressure would help the blood vessels mend faster, and the gauze could prevent the paste they smeared over his skin from rubbing off. It meant that the bandages were stained a nasty yellow green in places where the salve seeped through, and an acrid chemical scent followed Zachariah around like cigarette smoke.

Today though, he was walking with purpose towards Scott with a black duffel bag, and it took Andrew a minute to remember it as the one Zach had grabbed while they were in the chapel. He’d lost track of it, but Zachariah must have given it to one of the other Mancers to hold while they were fighting their way out. Now, though, he was dropping it onto one of Scott’s messy tables along with a battered datapad.

Andrew tried to go back to adjusting the boom on his sandsail, but he couldn’t help but watch them.

Scott had toddled over and was talking animatedly with Zach, gesturing with his hands before pulling a large piece of dirty paper out from a drawer and smoothing it out alongside the bag. They bowed their heads over it for a while, pulling a bundle of cloth from the bag and writing notes from the pad, before they seemed satisfied and each moved to their separate work stations.

Scott took the bundle to a table overflowing with electrical equipment and started ripping the garments apart. Meanwhile Zachariah settled at the crafting counter, and after picking through the scrap pile and shrugging on a heavy jacket, he pulled out a torch and started reshaping the metal and welding pieces together.

The work took hours. Long enough that Andrew had needed to find at least two additional excuses to stay on the loading deck to watch them. He wanted to know what was so important that it would take BOTH Scott and Zach to make, but more than that, watching Zachariah work was fascinating.

Andrew was too far away to see what they were making, but the ease in Zach’s posture was clear enough. He was in his element at that table, just as much as he was on the battlefield.

Andrew wished he could get closer, he didn’t know anything about engineering, but something told him he’d like the sight of Zach’s grease covered hands expertly piecing together components.

His hands…

Andrew shook himself.

_Nope, not the time for that_. Zach had enough problems without Andrew leering at him.

It was enough of a mental jolt that he managed to go back to his own work for a while.

–

It was a while later that Andrew checked on them again, and this time the curtain was closed around the crafting station. Occasionally a few bright sparks would like up the dirty plastic enough to see that both Scott and Zachariah were in there, but it was another hour before they finally emerged and the older man left.

Surprisingly, Zach made a beeline straight for Andrew.

“Hey there, Zachariah. Was wondering when you’d come ou-”

He took in Zach’s appearance and stifled a laugh. Poorly.

“You, uh- you got a little oil- um... pretty much everywhere.”

Zach had shed the jacket at some point, but the bandages were filthy with varying colors of grease, dirt, and who knows what else. His shirt was sporting several pinprick holes down his front from sparks burning through, and there were a few generous smudges over his cheek and forehead beneath sweat matted hair.

Zach gave him a small, amused smile. He looked disgusting, and it really shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was.

_Not now, Andrew_.

“You really should get those changed you know,” he said, gesturing to the ruined bandages.

Zachariah grunted in agreement.

“Later,” he said, “Come on, I made you something.”

That got Andrew’s attention.

Last he saw, his armor was still in decent condition, so he hardly needed a new set. Was this what those two were working on?

Zach led him across the deck, and Andrew had just made the mental note to hound him about the bandages later, before they reached the crafting area and he swept back the curtain.

The lively sounds of Noctis faded out completely as the sight in front of him registered.

While it wasn’t like any he’d seen, the piece in front of him was very clearly a prosthetic arm.

It looked incredibly intricate. A nest of wires weaving in and around heavy struts and pistons, running from the soft socket cup down to the tips of it’s metal fingers.

It was meant to move, he realizes. Not just sit there or lock in certain poses, but _move_. And one look at the shredded cloth told him how.

Technomancer armor.

“Couldn’t turn back time, but I could try and give you back what you lost,” he murmurs, having traced Andrew’s gaze.

He chokes, hand flying to his shoulder and gripping tight just above the scarring, “Can I…?”

Zach nods quietly, “Yes. I’ll need to adjust the straps though, is that ok?”

Andrew manages to force a vague ‘uh huh’ noise from his constricting throat and went with Zach as he pulls the curtain behind them.

His hand was shaking too hard to untie his shirt, and after a wordless whine of frustration, Zachariah gently steps in to help and Andrew is confronted with just how much shorter Zach was.

It was too intimate. Being in such close quarters and shielded from view as Zach’s dirty fingers carefully peeled off his shirt. He shakes harder when Zachariah gets it open, as nerves try to get the better of him. It had been ten years, but he still rarely ever let anyone see his arm directly, but he forces down the fear.

Zachariah wouldn’t judge him.

He knew he wouldn’t.

The shirt slips off, and Zachariah doesn’t react beyond a brief searching look over the newly bared skin. He doesn’t fixate on Andrew’s injury, but he doesn’t shy away from it either as he lifts the prosthetic into place and urges it onto Andrew’s stub, squeezing his shoulder apologetically when he hisses from the rubber cuff’s cold touch.

“Hold it here,” Zach murmurs into the quiet space between them. And Andrew nods jerkily as he grabs the thick strut of the upper arm.

It’s heavy. Heavier than his flesh arm, but it could weight 20 pounds for all he cares.

Zach untangles the straps and wraps them around Andrew, so close their chests bump together, and he has to try to remember how to breathe. One strap runs from the metal socket across and around the opposite side of his neck, and the other wraps snug around his rib cage, both have some padding to keep from rubbing sores into his skin, and the sheer amount of care Zach had taken to try and make this thing comfortable as well as functional makes Andrew’s head spin.

Once secured, Zachariah gives them a few gentle tugs until they’re sitting properly.

“Too tight?”

Andrew shakes his head.

“Alright, let go.”

He does and has to shift his weight to accommodate the change in his balance. It’s awkward, but nothing he couldn’t get used to.

“Still ok?”

“Yes,” he croaks.

“Ok,” Zach actually seems nervous now, “Alright, just… let your fluid run toward it. Scott said it should do most of the work after that.”

Andrew shivers as he carefully relaxes his control. It’s been so long since he’d been able to, it feels almost alien to let it flow properly.

In less than a second, the whole prosthetic jerks hard as the fluid in his stub reacts to the nanodes in the socket. He flinches and immediately feels Zach grab his flesh arm to steady him.

“Andrew?!”

The prosthetic settles and he reaches up to grab Zach’s shoulder to reassure him, but they both jump when his organic hand is mirrored by a metal one gripping the other side.

They both stare dumbly at it before Andrew breaks into a wide grin.

“Damn,” he mutters, awestruck.

He doesn’t even need to think about it, like the arm has a direct line to his brain same as his flesh one did. The servos whir faintly as he carefully curls his fingers and rolls his wrist. Everything moves smoothly with the barest whisper of noise, and Andrew only notices then how clean it is. There’s traces of fresh, clear oil around the joints, but Zach must have taken care to wipe the rest of it down. More so than he had with himself.

“Try your powers.”

He glances at Zachariah where he’s still casting a critical eye over the limb, a craftsman looking for flaws as his creation is put through it’s paces.

It takes even more concentration to purposely push the fluid towards his arm, but ten year old muscle memory filters back in and the metal alights in a wave of sparks.

His eyes squeeze shut and he groans, the feeling a mixture of relief and pain, like stretching an injured ankle for the first time after it’s mostly healed

“You ok?”

Zach is watching him now, brows furrowed in concern, but Andrew can only laugh breathlessly.

“For the first time in years, Zachariah, I’m very _very_ ok.”


End file.
